


they took a video of us at 10:48 p.m.

by fill_empty_space_here



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Allura Wasn't An Alien and Also Didn't Die, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, But exclude the homophobes and you have yourself some story, Carnival, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, He Gets Very Anxious, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Lance Gets Punched, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, They Form a Band at some point, i'm sorry i'm bad at writing, not in the first chapter tho haha losers, timestamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fill_empty_space_here/pseuds/fill_empty_space_here
Summary: Lance realized he was ignoring something important at exactly 5:53 p.m.He embarrassed himself at exactly 6:10 p.m.He was viciously manhandled at exactly 6:23 p.m.Lance was left swooning at exactly 9:38 p.m.And there, arose his dread, at exactly 10:04 p.m.





	they took a video of us at 10:48 p.m.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: THERE IS USE OF HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE AND A RECURRING THEME OF HOMOPHOBIA.
> 
> If this makes you uncomfortable, I advise to refrain from reading this and request for me to censor harmful language.
> 
> Second note: I don't proofread, so if there is any mistakes don't be afraid to tell me.

Lance is different when he's drunk. He's in this state—a weird state between sober and wasted where everything has a strange filter over it. He’s tethered to reality while still managing to slip away. His instincts? Basically gone. His motor skills? Barely hanging on. It’s almost contradicting, how the lightness of his head and heaviness of his legs made him feel like a balloon tied to a rock, floating and then dragging himself down again. He sees the world differently, moving in slow waves around him, one after the other layering in his vision. But at the same time, Lance doesn't see anything different. The world was the same as it was if he was sober, despite the surprising amount of alcohol in his body: the air still made him shiver despite his jacket, his breath still came out in the same cloud, and the carnival lights still made him squint from the brightness. It was as if nothing could change.

But it did change, and he noticed.

It was like a strange, unrealistic simulation, where the system is too slow to register your decisions, and any decision chosen simply comes out as unnatural and inhuman. Simply, it's just not _you_. That's what Lance means when he says everything moves in waves. It's as if it takes years for him to process the simplest of things, and it disturbs him more than anything.

It _could_ be sheepishly admitted Lance is different when he's drunk. But, unfortunately, it takes him two entire minutes _after being told so_ to realize, he's really handsy.

(So later, he confesses, he's not surprised it came to this.)

“Hey, Earth to Lance!” a familiar voice snapped his attention from where it had been focused on the cobblestone road. He trained his eyes to look at the owner of the hand waving in front of his face. Lance wondered how long Pidge had been talking.

Lance spit out, “Sorry, Hunk, what were you saying?”

“Um, I was pointing out that you were still grabbing at Keith—”

“Not that it's such a big deal to him—”

“Pidge, you know it looks weird—”

Lance stopped walking, tilting his head, blinking twice, then, it dawned upon him that there was warmth at his side and _wow_ , how long had he been walking like this?

Too drunk to blush, he smiled nervously and slowly pulled his arm away from Keith’s shoulders, an apology on the tip of his tongue but not quite getting out because _wow, how did I not notice?_

“Lance, are you sure you can handle your drinks?” Keith squinted at him. “You look kind of… Brain dead. Well, at least more than usual.”

The apology was out of his mind, and he was pretty sure the invitation to argue was just a topic changer, to quit the focus on the fact that Lance had been holding on to _Keith_ , of all people. That thought disappears, and he feels guilty that he's so uncomfortable around the other dude. He's not as distant (both physically and relationship-wise) with Pidge, Hunk, or Coran as he is with Keith. Even Shiro and Allura, people who he is sure don't quite appreciate his humor—have grown closer to him in the past few months he's met them.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, quickly realizing he was supposed to take the bait, or else it'll be weird. He flounders for a comeback, physically wincing when he fell short of a line and just shrugged. “I feel like I'm in one of those rare out-of-body experiences... like I'm watching the world go on without me.”

“Jesus—”

“Yeah, and even though I'm basically on an astral plane, I can still tell you guys are walking slower than me,” he finishes without allowing more interruption, and beside him, Keith laughs. He actually _laughs_. It's weird. Was it really that funny? He’s made funnier jokes. Does he always laugh at his jokes? Has Lance just never noticed? It sends this weird sensation across his chest and makes Lance want to stop in his tracks, like his stomach wanting to crawl up his ribs and then root itself into the ground through his feet. But, just like everything else from that night, it's gone before Lance could appreciate it, and he pretends the feeling is just nausea.

(He realized he was ignoring something important at exactly 5:53 p.m.)

“Where’s the, uh, _responsibles_?” Lance asks, stumbling to his right, staying there and willing his body not to let him latch on to any of his friends again.

“I think Allura and Shiro went to go save us places at the concert, and Coran is driving back from his apartment with those blankets you made him promise for,” Hunk explained. “Nice touch by the way, glad you took Keith in consideration.”

Lance blanked. “Oh—because he's not wearing a jacket, okay, I see the correlation.”

Hunk laughed, “But do you really?”

Confused, Lance tilted his head, wondering why everyone is acting so strange. He looked to Keith, who was suddenly angry at his shoes and then to Pidge, who was raising her eyebrow at Lance as if he was an idiot.

“Never mind,” Hunk groaned, and Lance was left feeling even more clueless.

From afar, Lance could hear the muted sounds of mic check. This month had a music festival, each day hosting free concerts near the empty boardwalk. Today though, his friends had agreed to meet up for one of the group’s favorite band: Fifth Element.

Although he didn't like the music as much as his friends did, he still found it amusing to see them so excited over a concert. Pidge brought the band’s bracelets and pins and Keith went without a jacket just to show off the band’s official T-Shirt. Lance wasn't gonna lie, his friends all probably looked really emo, having sported the band’s theme of dark colors and dark colors _only_. Lance probably stood out the most in his group, being the only dark article of clothing he wore was his pants; he wore a plain white shirt and a jean jacket, absolutely not the best outfit he’s thrown together.

Lance stopped in his path, the fest’s lights blurring and dizziness he is quickly becoming accustomed to washing over him. “Maybe you're right. I feel like throwing up,” Lance confessed to no one in particular, hunching over when he felt bile rise up his throat. He swallowed it back down.

He was surprised when Keith patted his back in response. Speaking over Pidge and Hunk, he worried, “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” he looked up and found Keith hunched down to his eye level, brow furrowed in worry. Lance stared at it as he spoke (although he didn’t necessarily mean to), “I probably just need water.”

“Want me to go buy you some?” his friend muttered in a query. His eyebrows still did that funky thing that made it look like he was concerned and Lance really just wanted to make him stop doing that. _Why is Keith so damn cool? The dude offered to buy me water and that’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me... today. Okay, maybe I’m just drunk because Keith isn’t even that cool._ Keith’s eyebrows furrow even further, Lance doesn’t really know why he can’t stop staring at them. _They’re the eyebrows of a God, that’s why._ Keith’s face relaxes and his eyes squint with mirth and Lance is thinking that it’s probably the nicest thing he’s seen Keith do until he gets interrupted. “Lance, did you just say I have the eyebrows of a God?”

(He embarrassed himself at exactly 6:10 p.m.)

Lance snapped up straight (something he regrets doing so quickly), “N-no, I can do that myself, you know? I mean, wait what did you say?” His eyes widen. “I’m such an idiot, sorry.”

Keith laughs louder, straightening up slower than Lance had. Lance blushes in embarrassment—the first time he has done so since he first started drinking—watching his friend absolutely lose it over something Lance thinks is not funny. At all.

In fact, Keith laughs so hard that Pidge and Hunk are now asking Keith what was so funny, making Keith so indecipherable that people start looking over at them and for Lance to repeatedly beg for Keith to shut up. Keith continues laughing, though, and Lance has decided he absolutely hates Keith, whether he has great eyebrows or not.

The four decide to start heading over to the concert space, where a crowd has already gathered to see the band. The band was busy with the stage crew, mics being set up around instruments. There was a rather large crowd milling around, most have settled in near the stage. Two people stood at the front of the stage, their mindless chatter growing louder as Lance and his friends walked up to them. Allura and Shiro looked to their friends almost simultaneously, and Lance watched as two large smiles plastered the pair’s faces.

As his friends all began talking, Lance was at a standstill. His friends moved around him, all quickly falling into a pattern of conversation that had adjusted to include everyone—even Keith, who was so reserved that Lance could only make the man speak when he annoyed him enough. They laughed and smiled and joked, but Lance wasn't speaking.

Lance couldn't believe how much had changed in the span of a few months. Lance never thought he could find friends who had been through so much with him. He had never met a group of people who could love him as much as he loved them. Lance never thought he could come as far as finding another family away from home.

_Maybe_ Lance was drunk. Maybe he had actually died when he was sixteen years old, and this reality never came to happen. Maybe he was imagining the smiles on his friends’ face, and he was just pretending that the laughter he heard was real. Maybe Lance was hallucinating, these people merely figments of his imagination, and Lance had never gotten the chance to meet any of them after all.

But he had, and that thought never ceased to amaze him. Everything changes and change never stops.

(Tonight was no exception.)

“Lance, are you alright?” Keith nudged beside him. “You look kind of sick.”

Lance took a moment to admire Keith, but his staring was interrupted by waves of vertigo washing over his body. Lance clutched at the front of the other boy’s shirt, breathing in cold air in hopes of passing through the dizzy spell without toppling over. When he could see clearly, he looked deep into Keith’s dark blue eyes, exhaled, then said, “Oh man, why do you keep talking to me?” _Wow, great job. You totally didn’t sound rude to Keith._

Blue eyes fluttered with confusion, once, twice, then Keith scoffed. Eyebrows furrowed in anger, he retorted, “Am I not allowed to?”

“No, no, not that,” Lance explained, “like, you’re a, uh, _Keith._ You don’t talk to Lances.” Was he slurring? Probably. He never thought he would slur.

The older boy ( _only by a year, soooo it doesn’t really count_ ) now frowned, eyes squinting in offense, “A Keith?”

“Yeah,” _okay now I definitely am slurring_ , Lance pressed. “A Keith. You know, not talkative, a bit broody, definitely emo.”

“Oh,” Keith smiled, “what’s a Lance then?”

“See, wait, no, that! That’s something Keith wouldn’t do! He wouldn’t invite me to speak more, or even smile at me,” Lance exclaimed. “Why are _you_ so different?”

His smile dissipated at it’s mention, dark orbs of beauty closing in frustration. Lance regretted his words as he saw the tension in Keith’s face. “Maybe you’re too drunk to understand what I mean by this,” he said, sighing. “But sometimes Keiths could talk to Lances and Lances could be funny to Keiths. I don’t know. Maybe _I’m_ too drunk for this.”

His mind went blank. He was sure he understood—that part was simple—no, he was unsure of why he phrased it as if it was more complicated. His lack of trust in intoxicated Lance’s common sense was informing, and the accused boy was about to flip the table on Keith when he was pulled, literally.

(Lance was viciously manhandled at exactly 6:23 p.m.)

Yanked by his left arm, he stumbled near Keith as he struggled to find his footing. Keith held a tight grip on him, and Lance turned around to see a group of people had entered his vicinity, and therefore, Lance was nice and cozy against Keith’s side.

And when Lance meant nice and cozy, it was quite literal; Lance wanted to melt. He knew he was drunk, but at this point, he couldn’t tell what his intoxication was affecting. He feels as if he wouldn’t be stumbling onto Keith if he was sober, but he feels as if his drunkenness had more into play into the fact that Lance wasn’t _just_ snuggling Keith, but also awarely reluctant to move away.

Keith’s arm wasn’t _necessarily_ around him, but Lance _had_ been standing to his side. So as Keith held Lance’s left arm, Lance’s unsteady balance made him reliant on Keith’s right side, and his hand regained its former grip on the front of the American boy’s shirt.

But he was… a lot warmer than he expected. For a guy with no jacket on, he felt like a blanket, and as the grip on his arm loosened, Lance relaxed more into his shoulder, feeling like a touch starved puppy cuddling up to its mother.

“Uh, Lance,” Keith muttered into his hair. The soft vibrations that rang through his body and the short puff of breath that came with his name left a tremor running through his spine. “Lance?” his head moved, this time to bend close to his face.

“S’rry,” he slurred, stepping away from his friend. Clearing his throat in attempts to prepare his words, he tried again. “You’re very warm.” _That’s not any better._

“Uh, sorry?”

“No, I’m stupid,” he chuckles nervously, his cheeks cold from the biting wind. _Oh no, am I blushing? Wait, no it doesn’t matter. No one can see that well in the dark, I doubt Keith would be able to tell._

“You’re red. Maybe you really are sick.”

_I doubt Keith would be able to tell, my ASS._

“You know, Lances would probably be quicker to respond than this,” Keith livened, “and Keiths would probably tell Lances that he was acting like an idiot. But, since, we’re all not ourselves today, I’ll try not to mention it.”

“Good.”

After a long time, the group grew closer and closer, being pushed together by the incoming crowd of fans, and Lance ended up in between Keith and Pidge. Mic check had passed and the crew was backstage, waiting for their impending cue. Three minutes prior to the show, Coran arrived, three blankets for the group to share, and since Pidge insisted for her own blanket (and since no one seemed to argue against her except Lance: Pidge won the argument), Lance shared his with Keith.

The band introduced themselves to a moderately loud crowd (the area was a bit more crowded than expected, but not enough to make Lance go deaf), and the group of seven was able to admire the band’s five members up close and personal—hence the name Fifth Element. Keith and Lance were nestled together underneath a large purple fleece when one of Allura’s favorite songs came out. She ended up screaming the lyrics into everyone’s ear, and Keith laughed as Lance screamed along with her. It had been the least composed he had ever seen her, and he thought she really deserved to let the whole world hear it. The seven ended up joining in, Coran yelling so loud that when the song ended, the leader (which Lance was infatuated with, and they were soulmates—he knew) gave him a shoutout. Coran may have cried a little.

Well into their newest song, Keith had been struggling to hold the blanket around himself, so Lance opted to stand closer to the other. As a result, the awkwardness of standing so close had begun again, and although Lance wouldn’t say he was as drunk as before, he could blame his intoxication on his behavior later. He closed blanket and held it tight between them, and if he was bored enough, Lance could act like the fleece was one of those get-along shirts, and then never let Keith go. Because that would be funny.

Pidge’s favorite song had included a drum solo. She always claimed it “really got her going”, and although Lance never knew what that meant, he surely knew when he saw her trying to mimic the beating of the set, head banging, hair flying, foot tapping—all of it. Lance, to his amusement, saw Hunk trying to mimic the lead guitarist, Shiro joining in with an exaggerated version of bass, Coran and Allura lip-syncing the lyrics perfectly. Keith wondered beside him, “What are we supposed to do? Air-play the keyboard? It’s gonna look like we’re trying to smack a fly.”

Lance thought they were done making fools of themselves until Shiro’s favorite song came on, in which Shiro, his friends, and, consequently, Lance himself all danced to, and then afterward when Coran yelled at the leader to crowd surf.

Lance’s favorite song wasn’t played by the time Keith’s song (which was always played last at concerts) went on. He wasn’t bummed, though; he was filled to the brim with glee. At that point, Lance was grinning widely, arm around Keith and swaying side to side until Keith was struggling to stand from laughter. His friends had unsurprisingly joined in, and, with the blanket around the two of them, none of them noticed Lance’s hand at Keith’s waist. Somehow, neither did Keith.

The crowd grew bigger over two hours, and when the band began packing, there was a 35-yard long crowd to cut through, all of them waiting for the next band to perform.

Coran chatted as they made their way to the side of the stage. Lance wasn’t gonna lie, he was hoping he could at least high five the lead singer. Unfortunately, the band was only willing to thank them for coming, and then reassure that they _would_ stay longer because “they were one of their most lively groups all year”, but they had a concert to attend by tomorrow and had to ride all night.

“We love you!” Lance yelled after the older band member, and to his pleasure, the singer turned and sent a wink.

Lance was left swooning at exactly 9:38 p.m.

\-----

The group sat at a table to eat and drink (except for Coran, who said he didn’t need alcohol to be happy) after multiple rounds of carnival games (in which Lance won a stuffed turtle for Allura, Shiro won a giant inflatable alien for Pidge, Hunk won two tiny ducks for Keith AND Coran, and after some heavy encouragement, Lance convinced Keith to win him a big bear). They engaged in a friendly and safe game of Would You Rather, where the Lance found that Shiro would rather be eaten alive by rats than to marry a Disney princess on the grounds that he’d rather not get into drama and lawsuits by Mickey Mouse.

When it was his turn, Shiro had asked him, “Would you rather spend an entire day with Keith or an entire day with Nyma?”

Lance was wondering about how that was friendly because it wasn’t very friendly of him to bring his ex up like that. He would talk badly about Nyma, but she was actually nice when she didn’t have an ulterior motive, so Lance decided not to. “Definitely Keith. Nyma is not into me, and I don’t think she would appreciate my intellect.”

“You’re right. He’s right, you know,” Pidge insisted.

After a few more rounds of the game, one in which Coran demonstrated his fighting technique against snakes, they stood once again to head to the carnival stands.

And as Lance held a beer in hand, he had to appreciate his friends. He hadn’t had this much fun at an outing since he was a teen, and he was almost worried that something would ruin it.

“Do you guys think we can win another duck?” Hunk asked the group. “I think my cousin would really like one.”

“Who would win it? A drunk Shiro or a wasted Keith?” Allura pitched.

Coran tsked. “It would be me, of course. I would never let a duck go unadopted.”

“Let’s just imagine a Coran chasing a real-life duck for about two seconds,” Lance brought up.

“And then have ducklings follow him because they thought he was their mother,” Pidge snorted.

“Momma Coran,” Shiro panned. His face dissolved into one of disgust. “I swear to God I was about to say daddy.”

Keith beside him did a spit take and Lance ended up snorting out his drink. The liquid left a burn through his nostrils.

_“Are you satisfied to know you're going to burn in hell?!”_

And there, arose his dread, at exactly 10:04 p.m.

Lance stops walking, as do his friends, turning to his right to locate the source of the yelling. They find two crowds, one of a church group that he can’t recognize, and another of an angry group countering the group’s chants. After careful inspection, the church group seemed to be protesting the carnival, if their signs reading “ _God Doesn’t Like Fags_ ”, “ _Homos = Sinners_ ” and “ _Perverts Burn_ ” were any tell.

At first thought, Lance was worried they were there for him and his friends specifically. His friends weren’t famous, but they were known in town for serving as “last-resort saviors” of international security (the “last resort saviors” title came from a rant Keith had over how bullshit it was that the government “didn’t listen to him”). This meant, yes, their title was brought up when Lance met people, but it also had brought negative attention towards them; Shiro was sometimes called out for being publically gay, and the rest received harassment for being friends with him.

In a more personal way, he was panicking over the protesters. He had never seen an organized group of some, and although he had seen evidence of some from the past and in other areas, Lance never expected to be face-to-face with some. And what if they knew Lance was bisexual? What if they knew some of his other friends were LGBT? What if they knew about his thoughts and feelings, and they bombarded him with threats of him burning in hell?

Well, he had to be realistic. Only his close family knew of his sexuality; Hunk and Allura were two of the few friends who he had graced the topic with. As much as he had wanted to come out to the rest of his circle, he had trouble finding the right time. With that, he knew it would be hard to believe they were targeting him specifically, also given that there were a lot of queer people in attendance to these festivals, and some of the bands that performed had a gay (in two cases, a lesbian) band member. Besides that, Lance was _not_ the only LGBT person there, and he should know better than to assume he was the only one with problems.

_Woah, woah, woah… **true** … but toxic. We don’t need that right now. You could get into some pretty dark thoughts if you go down that path. Avoid that._

Reprimanding himself wasn’t the point, he decided, and Lance returned to evaluating the degree of importance. On one hand, no one knows Lance is gay, and the most probable reason they’re protesting is the LGBT attendees. On the other hand, people probably look at him and think he’s gay, and he wouldn’t want one of those people to be those church members.

“Oh, for a second, I thought they were going to attack us,” Coran jostled at Shiro and consequently snapped Lance out of his thoughts. “Phew, what a relief!” He wiped imaginary sweat off his brow. “But, no, seriously, this is bad.”

Lance absorbed his friend’s facial expressions. Coran looked a bit frazzled, probably surprised to see such a group in their city, while Allura and Pidge both looked on with slight disdain. Hunk and Shiro looked as nervous as Lance felt, relieving the Cuban to know that he isn’t the only one near panic.

Keith, however, looked furious.

Maybe it was the fact that Keith’s closest friend was a gay man, or maybe it was because Keith disliked the idea that the protesters were causing unrest among the group and public. Either way, the guy seemed like he was about to kill everyone in that crowd, and Lance was tempted once more to hold him, but this time to avoid having to witness a murder.

Beside him, Pidge was the next one to react, inhaling sharply. “What do we do?”

“Let’s uh, not get near them. What if they have sharp knives or even worse, pepper spray?” Hunk frowned. “Do you guys know how much that stings?”

“I would call security,” Shiro piped in. “They could probably kick them out.”

“I doubt it,” Allura criticized, “I heard they were here last year since that gay country singer visited. People called security and security didn’t have a chance to respond properly. I say we tell the others to ignore them. The more attention they get for this, the more we’re encouraging them.”

Coran shook his head, “This is very disheartening. There are still people like this out there?”

Keith huffed beside Lance. Hands tight in a fist, jaw clenched, and eyes boring holes into the ground, Keith was seconds away from combustion.

Lance was totally gonna do something, he had decided. Calm Keith? Probably. Maybe even convince all of them that they should probably go home? Maybe. Lance didn’t decide fast enough, and he was stuck watching Keith walk towards the church-goers with lividness.

“Oh, there he goes,” Lance murmurs, pacing behind him and then making sure the rest of them follow suit. The seven all end up stumbling into the small crowd of drunken attendees, most of them taking pictures of the protesters, some yelling back, and one special case where a dude took a selfie beside the picketers as if he was a tourist at a wax museum.

Lance watched Keith try to unravel his tension, strangely. He doesn’t often stare at Keith, but deciding that it’s important to make sure Keith doesn’t lose his cool, the younger boy ends up transfixed by Keith’s face, tensing forehead, broody eyes, and twitching scowl, disappearing then back within seconds.

A member raised a speakerphone to his mouth, yelling, “ _You can still be saved from Hell if you accept the light!_ ” The other members repeat what he says.

The words left harsh imprints in his skin. He understood that the surrealness of this was the main factor in his confusion, and just because he had never met a group like this in real life didn’t mean he shouldn’t do anything about it now that the situation has presented itself unexpectedly. But hearing the words for the first time left a dilemma. Should he really let himself be affected by this?

The hatred seeped into his wounds. Was he really so disgusting? Was there ever going to be a time in his life where he could be open about his sexuality and orientation without a couple of assholes to come by and ruin it for him?

But then again, were they wrong? Lance couldn’t prove them that God wouldn’t punish people of other sexualities, because he couldn’t prove that God existed.

Did he even have anything to worry about in the first place? There were others struggling, but he had to make it about himself. After all, he was bisexual. A lot of people wouldn’t believe he was valid.

Lance’s head hurt.

“Literally no one cares, now go home!” a woman yells, snapping him out of his thoughts.

_“Homo sex is a sin!”_

“Straight sex is boring!” a man pipes in. Voices crowd in to agree.

“ _You’ll all burn in Hell for not following God’s word!_ ” he yelled into the speakerphone. The static and the volume made Lance’s head hurt even worse.

A girl beside him yelled back, “When are you gonna give it up? No one cares!”

The selfie guy from earlier is now mocking the protestors’ stoic composure, and a flash goes off as he changes positions to something a lot more vulgar. The homophobes don’t even glance his way.

Lance takes a moment to look around and realizes that he’s between Keith and a girl a few years younger than him (the same girl who had yelled out), who seemed to be pulling her hair so hard that her pale knuckles became red. Concerned, Lance tapped her shoulder as lightly as he could, asking if she was okay.

“No,” she gritted, hands loosening as shaken eyes make contact with his. Lance willed himself to ask why, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And maybe the girl caught on because she sighed and continued with little hesitation, “My girlfriend was here last year when they first came. Although I had hoped to cheer her up, she ended up breaking down. She had come out to her parents not long before these assholes’ visit, and her family didn’t take it well. This,” she paused to gesticulate to the group of homophobes, “didn’t help.”

_“You can still be saved from Hell if you accept the light!”_

“It's not your life to change, now go away!” Keith yelled.

What if Keith was taking it harder than he was? After all, Shiro was gay, and Keith was always up to defend Shiro against homophobes.

But if that was true, wouldn’t Keith be checking on Shiro right now? Wouldn’t he, at least, try to sneak in a few glances to Shiro? Why was Keith so… _defensive?_

_Oh._

Is Keith gay?

Lance didn’t know how to analyze the situation, as he was inclined to jumping to conclusions. But maybe… just maybe… that explained a lot.

Keith never did seem to have any interest towards Allura, and never talked to any of his female fangirls (which Lance was sad to admit Keith had more of than him). Would that explain why Keith had never introduced a girl to their group, and why Keith was upset about Lance’s insult over Keith’s hair rather than his insult over not having a girlfriend? Would that explain maybe why Keith doesn’t respond to girls’ flirtings, but guys, he seems to speak with?

Oh my _God_ , Lance was an idiot.

After several years, Lance barely found out Keith was gay at exactly 10:13 p.m.

Lance scooted backward and bumped into Allura, his heart beating a lot quicker than he would care to admit.

“Lance, are you alright?” she asked, voice soft enough to calm him if that were _possible_ in this state.

Lance breathed, “Is Keith, by any chance, homosexual?”

She smiled lopsidedly, then frowned, “Erm, are you okay? I find your panic a bit concerning. And what was this about Keith?”

“Is Keith gay?”

Allura blanched, then smiled nervously. “Maybe… Ask him?”

“What?!” he asked incredulously. “No way! Nuh-uh! I’ll embarrass myself and probably offend him!”

“How about… mentioning that you’re bisexual?” Allura shrugged, and Lance stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

Lance flustered, “Why would I ever do that?! What if he isn’t even gay? Then I would have just come out to him for no reason. Besides, how would I even phrase that? ‘Oh, hey, I’m bisexual, your turn!’” Lance yelled.

“Lance, speak a bit louder and I’m sure he’ll find out one way or another,” she laughed uneasily. “Take a deep breath and just go up to him. Subtly make the conversation about him. Trust me, it works.”

He took a deep breath, letting his shoulders relax. He squinted at Allura accusingly, “How often do you make someone confess by manipulating them?”

“How do you think I found out _your_ sexuality AND about your crush on me?” Allura winked, then proceeded to push him back to Keith. Allura is very strong; Lance is affirmed of this when he ends up pushing Keith forward as he falls into him. He spares Lance a bewildered glance before relaxing slightly at his recognition.

Lance frowned in sympathy, “How are you holding up, man?”

Keith gave one furious glower back to the church group and sighed, eyes darting back to Lance. “It’s just, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You know how annoying this is to see?” He looked at him in the eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Lance gulped nervously. “I mean, being bisexual and all, this kind of bigotry and homophobia was introduced to me at a personal level, and seeing it at my most vulnerable and unexpected time is… a struggle. Uh,” he looked down, “I see how this can be hard for you, as you are really close to Shiro, and he is someone who is, yeah, gay.”

_Oh my God, that was the smoothest conversation I’ve ever had when I’m drunk. And this was the same day I confessed to Keith’s eyebrows._

“It’s not just Shiro. Like, you, this hits me… on a personal level,” Keith looked away, and Lance took his chance to stare at him. “You know, hearing that me being gay is really a problem for someone is irritating, because you would hope, that after saving the world, maybe everyone would have learned to be more tolerant.”

“Gay?” Lance sputtered. He cleared his throat and straightened up after Keith raised an eyebrow at him, “But you don’t tell everyone this right? I mean, like I don’t tell everyone about me being bi, but you know… this still hurts…”

Keith nodded. “You’re not the only that has to come out. Not everyone knows, but it’s not that hard to figure out.”

“You’d think that, right?” Lance scolded himself. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Keith stared off at the crowd again, where there was now loud yelling and chanting from both sides. Lance huffed.

“This isn’t the way to love your neighbor!” someone shouted back. They were ignored by the group.

_“Homosexuals are going to hell!”_

_“Your passion is a sin!”_

_“REPENT OR BURN!”_

_“The lord can forgive you if you change!”_

Lance looked behind him, but his friends were gone, and the woman he had been talking to earlier was now shaking.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m not gonna let my day be ruined by a bunch of weirdos,” Lance stated and reached out for Keith. “Hey man, how about we could go do something about this? This is making me sick and I’m getting tired of hearing them repeat themselves.”

“What are _we_ going to do?” Keith lamented. “We can’t do much to convince them of anything. We can’t attack them. We can’t even ask them to leave,” he sighed, “it’s hopeless.”

Lance pulled a blank. Maybe he didn’t actually know what to do, but he was sure he could figure out something. “We’ll figure it out, together. C’mon.” He grabbed Keith’s hand and tugged him along, excusing himself to the front of the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked as they reached the front.

Lance huffed. “Something I should have thought of a while ago.”

The two of them nestled together in the open space between the two groups. Lance turned to face Keith, determined to explain himself and ask for permission before going through with his plan.

“Keith.”

“Yeah? Lance, you’re kind of worrying me. What are you planning?”

“I’m going to kiss you, Keith. Is that okay?”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up, “W-what? Why?”

“I saw on the internet of a group that got so disgusted, they left,” Lance smiled. “I know it’s kind of weird, but maybe it might work.”

Keith leaned away, frowning. His cheeks were flushed. “I don’t know, isn’t it kind of weird?”

Lance scoffed playfully but allowed the distance to occur. “Keith, you know I trust you, and you can trust me. I won’t force you to do anything, though. We can always just encourage the carnival goers to leave. No biggie.”

_Where did he even get the idea to do it with **Keith**? What’s going on?_

“Fine. But only because I like you.”

“Wait, wh——”

Their lips crashed together at exactly 10:48 p.m.

Lance was punched by 10:51:01 p.m.

Keith punched a homophobe at exactly 10:51:43 p.m.

**Author's Note:**

> If you hate this, then I'm sorry.
> 
> [x love you](https://fuckyourpaladins.tumblr.com)


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